


Across the Galaxy

by Thepiratequeen01



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Big Sisters, F/F, Lesbians in Space, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thepiratequeen01/pseuds/Thepiratequeen01
Summary: Callista Tallon has been an indentured servant for ten years, but that all changes today. With her newfound freedom, she intends to find her sister, Lyra, who was sold at the same time as she was. With the help of a newfound friend, the bounty hunter Aayla Grie, they escape from the Empire and go on a search for Lyra that spans across the galaxy. Will they find Lyra before the Empire bears down on them?
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One 

City of Phelar, Eriadu 

Early morning 

Callista Tallon awakened, curled into a ball in the corner of a room, like always. Silently, she put on her boots, gathering her things. It was early still, and most of the other indentured servants—slaves, really—were still asleep. She intended to leave before any of them awakened to see her. Callista opened her coin purse, as silently as she could; the coins only twinkled a little as she counted them. It was enough. Barely, but it was. 

Callista rolled up her sleeping mat and silently stepped over the dozens of sleeping bodies. These people, sold into servitude, would be owned by Jhox Vu, the crime lord, for years yet to come. Technically, Callista still owed ten years. But she was a slicer and a damn good one at that. She had been picking up side jobs for years, and today it would finally pay off. Tying her fiery red hair into a ponytail as she walked, she started crafting her goodbye in her head. Not to any of these people, of course. She owed them nothing, and several of the men had tried to make unwanted advances on her. One of the reasons she had waited this long to save up for her freedom was the weapons she’d bought herself to keep away men: a knife, tucked into a slot in her boots, and a custom blaster, small enough to fit in a holster between her breasts. That certainly kept unwanted hands away. 

She made her way silently through the spaceship, nodding at those who nodded back at her. Callista tried to walk the line between friendly and unapproachable, and it had worked so far for her. She reached the halfway point on the ship, guarded by a Mon Calamari named Vinquel. Vinquel was also an indentured servant, but he’d been working for Jhox Vu for almost forty years, and was so trusted to keep the riff-raff out of the nice part of the ship, or so everyone grumbled. Vinquel held up a hand for Callista to stop as she walked up. 

“What is your business?” Vinquel asked. 

“I need to speak with Vu,” Callista replied. 

Vinquel chuckled. “Vu doesn’t speak with us, you know that. What is your business?” 

Callista hesitated for only a moment. Vinquel had always been nice to her, and she didn’t think he would try and rob her here. “I want to buy my freedom.” 

“Oh? Is that so? There are dozens of servants who want to do that, I wager. For most it’s a pipe dream. We’ll all die here.” He didn't sound unkind, just resigned. 

“Not for me,” Callista replied, determined. She showed Vinquel her coin purse, and his eyes widened in surprise. 

“Well, then,” he said. “I suppose being a slicer pays off.” He stood aside, opening the door for Callista. “Good luck, little one,” he called after her when she thanked him and passed by. 

Callista steeled herself. Up at the front of the ship, those who worked for Jhox Vu that weren’t owned looked down upon her. They scoffed at the ugly brown overalls, the only clothing provided for indentured servants. Callista had been lucky; as a talented slicer, Vu had wanted her to look good when she met clients. He kept her in a new pair of overalls every year, and these were almost brand-new. Vu took pride in the appearance of those who worked for him; whoever represented him needed to look the part, no matter how little they were worth in his eyes. For him, it was like keeping a droid clean and shiny. He’d taken to Callista’s appearance, for better or for worse, ten years ago when she was sold into servitude. Many men had been taken with her appearance, but she had never given any of them the time of day. She looked unusual, with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes, her long face covered in freckles. She was short, and her figure was curvy. She’d been cursed by nature with a curvy figure, which was why she’d bought herself a good solid knife with her first under-the-table slicer paycheck. No man had touched her, but many had made it clear that they wanted to. 

Callista had been sold at the age of fifteen, from the planet of Coruscant. Her parents had worked at the Jedi Temple as cleaners, and on the famous day where the Jedi were massacred, had been caught in the crossfire. During the chaos that day, those with nefarious purposes had made a killing. Fah Gumah, a Balosar who worked with her parents, had remembered who had children and who didn’t, and had taken the opportunity to grab as many of his coworker’s children as he could, selling them to the nearest crime syndicate, which happened to be Jhox Vu. Gumah had sold twenty-five children that day, most, like Callista and her sister Lyra, into twenty-year contracts. Vu had been pleased, but he had no use for the younger children. He sold off everyone under the age of twelve, including Lyra, who had only been eight. That day, Callista had lost her entire family as well as her freedom. 

Today was the first step towards changing that. 

She reached Vu’s office, a large, sturdy room with a large, sturdy door. A bored-looking human was standing there, and he straightened up as Callista approached. She’d seen him before; he was a part of Vu’s personal guard, but she couldn’t remember his name. She stopped directly in front of him, and his hand casually brushed against his blaster, in its holster. “What is your business with Jhox Vu?” He asked. 

“I’m here to buy my freedom,” Callista replied. 

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Do you have enough credits?” 

“That’s between myself and Jhox Vu.” Callista’s grip tightened on her coin purse. She didn’t trust this guard; many of the guards were known to rob servants if they could. 

This guard, however, seemed amused. “All right then,” he said, “but if it goes sideways, that’s between you and Jhox Vu, too, then, eh?” 

Callista nodded once, and the guard knocked on the door. After a moment of silence, a voice called out: “Yes, Strelpaal?” Ah! That was his name! Khennos Strelpaal. 

“Got a little girl here,” Strelpaal called through the door. “Claims she’s here to buy her freedom.” 

There was another moment of silence, and Vu called back through the door, “Let her in.” 

Strelpaal grinned at Callista, a wide, toothy grin that disgusted her. He looked her up and down for good measure, a gaze she was well-acquainted with, before opening the door to the office. Callista smiled a tight, small smile before walking through the door. 

The office of Jhox Vu was large and stately. He had a large desk with several chairs on this side of it, and the floor was made of thick carpeting. When she was fifteen, sitting next to her sister, awaiting their fate, she had been barefoot, and had rubbed her feet through the thick carpeting. It provided her comfort, the last comfort this ship had given her. The Widowmaker was a luxurious ship, when you weren’t in the back with the cargo and the servants. But she had always been in the back. 

Jhox Vu was a Mon Calamari, stately in appearance. He looked like any typical merchant or politician; he was always wearing a tailored suit and carried himself with a regal posture. He had a pen in one of his hands and was just signing a paper when Callista entered. He tilted his head when she walked in, and gestured towards one of the chairs. Callista sat, and the chair almost enveloped her. She wasn’t used to this much luxury, and, ironically, the comfort made her uncomfortable. 

Vu studied her for a moment, his black eyes unreadable. “Callista Tallon,” he said finally. “Why are you here?” 

Callista thought it best to cut straight to the point. She opened her coin purse and dumped out what was inside. “I’m here to buy my freedom,” she answered. 

Vu moved his paper to one side and slowly, deliberately, counted out every coin. He seemed to delight in the anguish he caused by counting every coin individually. The whole process felt like an eternity, but Callista remained silent. She kept her head high and focused on steadying her breathing. 

Finally, Vu had finished. “This is a nice chunk of change,” he commented. “Where did you acquire this?” 

“I’ve been doing slicer jobs on the side,” Callista explained. 

“I see. You took the slicer training I gave you out of kindness and took time that doesn’t belong to you to earn money, then?” 

Callista had been anticipating this. “I earned it during our regulated free time. There aren’t any stipulations in my contract about what I can and cannot do during my free time, so I spent it earning money to free myself.” 

Vu nodded slowly. “I see, I see. I shall have to review that stipulation for the next batch of servants, then, hmm? Hmm.” He rubbed his face, musing. “Well, then,” he said after a long moment. Jhox Vu was not one to rush. He did everything slowly and deliberately, testing the patience of those near him and asserting himself as the dominant force in every conversation. He opened a drawer and pulled out a flask and two cups. “Everything seems to be in order here. Since you are a free woman, Miss Tallon, may I interest you in a drink?” 

Callista’s heart fluttered, and she felt herself nodding. It would be rude to decline a drink invitation from Jhox Vu, she knew, but all she could think of was “I’m free!” Vu poured her a drink, some kind of juice, and slid it towards her. He took a sip of her own as Callista tried to keep her hand from shaking. She managed to take a sip, and Vu chuckled slightly. “What are you going to do with your freedom, Miss Tallon? You are a very talented slicer, and there will always be work for you here.” 

Callista took a long sip of juice before replying, “I’m going to find my sister. Perhaps you remember where you sold her?” 

Vu paused for a moment, contemplative. “She was younger, correct?” 

“That’s correct.” 

“I had no use for children. I find them too untrainable. I tend to sell them off to someone who needs menial labor.” There was no cruelty in Vu’s voice, only a cool logic. He really didn’t see them as people, just profits. “I can only imagine I sold her off to someone with a factory, someone who would need small children. Children don’t complain about unsafe working conditions, you see.” 

Callista’s throat went dry, and she took a sip of juice to counteract the feeling. “You wouldn’t happen to have kept a record of where you sold her, would you? Her name is Lyra. Lyra Tallon. She’d be eighteen now.” 

Vu shook his head. “Now those records are kept off the books. I bought the two of you on Coruscant, right? Yes, I wouldn’t have kept those records.” 

Callista bit her lip. “Would you know where to start looking?” 

“Try going back to Coruscant,” Vu advised. “Perhaps you can find the one who sold you. He might have a lead on the location of your, what was her name? Lyra.” 

Callista drained her juice. “All right, then.” She stood up. “Thank you, sir.” 

“For what?” 

“For my freedom.” With that, Callista exited the room. She passed a shell-shocked Strelpaal at the door. He had clearly been eavesdropping, and his mouth was open in surprise. “Close your mouth,” Callista advised. “You’ll catch bugs.” 

She didn’t stick around to hear his stammered response. 

The Widowmaker was parked at a dock, and as she was leaving, no one paid her any attention. Just another morning, thought everyone else. But they were wrong. This was the first morning of Callista’s life. She was free, after ten long years of servitude. She stood taller, walked with more of a spring in her step. She was free, and she would find her sister. 

She would.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

City of Phelar, Eriadu 

Mid-morning 

Callista’s first stop was to buy some clothing that wasn’t overalls. She didn’t want the stigma of being an indentured servant to follow her around. She purchased several outfits, and after selecting one to wear (practical black pants with a pretty blouse, patterned with flowers, long-sleeved, but showed off her shoulders), stowed the rest in her backpack. She had saved up enough money for both her own freedom and Lyra’s, with a little extra for necessities while she was looking. But she hadn’t accounted for how expensive things were; after buying herself clothes and breakfast, she had already used up half of what was left over after Lyra’s freedom fund. She cursed herself silently as she left the small cantina where she’d eaten her first meal as a free woman. 

“Sorry!” Someone exclaimed as they bumped into her. Callista was used to people bumping into her, but this was the first time someone had expressed an apology. She turned to look at who had bumped into her, but they were lost, hurried away through the crowd. She paused for a moment. The crowd in cities usually bustled in different directions, but not here. Here, all the hustle and bustle was in one direction, and there was an urgent feeling to it. She took it all in within a second before joining the flow of the crowd. 

“Excuse me,” she asked someone next to her, a Twi’lek man, “what’s going on?” 

“The Empire is here,” he explained tersely. “There’s a rebel base nearby, and everyone is under suspicion. We’ve been ordered to return to our homes. How didn’t you hear?” With that, he hurried off, leaving Callista’s blood running cold. 

She’d spent the last ten years in an underworld, her goings-on kept secret from the Empire by any means necessary. Her fear of the Empire had been drilled into her; those who worked for crime lords ended up in prisons for the rest of their life, and prison was worse than servitude. At least with servitude she could buy her way out. She didn’t have anywhere to go if the city was under curfew, and there was no way she would return to the Widowmaker. Desperate, she kept following the flow of the crowd past streets of shops and residential buildings. She resolved to take her chances, begging for space in a residential building when she saw her salvation: an empty, abandoned building on the corner of a street. Ducking out of the crowd, she found her way to the back of the building. 

The windows were all boarded up, but in the back, there was one that was accessible. She climbed through it quickly and took a moment to assess her surroundings. It was a small, ramshackle shack. It was only one floor, and it had clearly already been ransacked. There was simply nothing left in it. The floor was dirty and grimy, and footsteps led to and from the window. Okay, maybe not so abandoned. Callista decided against calling attention to herself and instead ventured deeper into the building, moving as quietly as she could. She turned the corner of the wall. It led into near-pitch-darkness. Two yellow eyes peered up from inside the darkness. 

“Shit!” Callista swore, backing up, making for the window. She was usually more careful than this. 

“Wait!!” A voice called out, and before Callista could make the window, there were two purple arms around her, keeping her inside. “Wait,” the voice said in her ear, “the Empire is coming, and we have a better chance of staying off their radar if we stay here.” 

“Shit,” Callista swore again. She’d been free all of three hours and now here she was, captured again. “What do you want?” 

“All I want is to stay alive,” the voice answered. “Come back into the shadows; I’ll give you a proper introduction.” 

The arms released her, and Callista turned around to see a beautiful Twi’lek woman. She was purple, with yellow eyes, her brain-tails slung over her shoulders in a way that was both effortless and elegant. She was dressed in black, unassuming clothes, and she gestured urgently towards the shadowy part of the abandoned shack. “If I come in there with you and you try anything, I warn you, it’ll be the last thing you try,” Callista threatened, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. 

“Of course!” The Twi’lek nodded furiously. “Come on, please.” 

Callista followed, feeling a sense of trepidation. She pulled a small light out of her backpack and shone it around. The area seemed to be a former dining room, and the Twi’lek was pulling out a chair. She gestured for Callista to sit in it, and seated herself in the chair next to it. Callista perched on the very edge of the chair. “Oh, I’m not going to hurt you,” the Twi’lek snapped. “Turn off that damn light.” 

“Who are you?” Callista asked into the pitch-darkness. The only thing she could see were the yellow eyes staring back at her. They were bright and innocent, Callista realized. She tentatively placed her trust in them. “I’m Callista.” 

“Aayla Glie, bounty hunter” came the response. “I’d hand you my business card, but...” She trailed off for a moment, followed by a short laugh. “Sorry, I was gesturing at the dark. I forget sometimes not everyone can see in the dark. Sorry about the dark, by the way. The Empire is bearing down on us, and they won’t think twice about taking me in.” 

“What did you do?” Callista asked, warily. Although she herself wasn’t exactly on the Empire’s good side, she tended to distrust people who had put themselves on their bad side deliberately, rather than by circumstances. 

“Nothing bad,” Aayla’s answer was quick, but sincere. “I promise. What about you, Callista? Why are you hiding from the Empire?” 

Why was she hiding from the Empire? Technically, Callista was probably in the clear. Everything she had done had been done under coercion, part of her servitude to Jhox Vu. But at the same time, she’d spent the last ten years avoiding the Empire, jumping at shadows when she was left alone to work. Once she had even been captured by the Empire, and spent an uncomfortable night in a holding cell until Vu had shown up to get her in the morning. He didn’t want her spilling his secrets, he said. She’d been punished for being caught. “I’m a slicer,” Callista said finally. 

“Oooh, hack anyone important?” Aayla asked. 

Callista shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I worked for Jhox Vu.” 

Aayla gasped. “Jhox Vu?!?!?! I’ve been trying to get to him!” 

“Is he your mark?” 

“What? No. My mark is Xiiz Zyosh. Hang on.” There was a small rustling sound, and Callista reached for her knife, but Aayla clicked a button and a small hologram appeared of a mean-looking Rodion. “Xiiz Zyosh. He murdered the daughter of Korpath the Hutt, so Korpath put out a bounty on him. I was here looking for Vu because I hear he’s had dealings with Korpath.” She clicked off the hologram. 

Callista had worked for several Hutts, but Vu tended to keep everything she did on an strict need-to-know basis, and the name of her client was almost never something she needed to know. “I see.” 

“Can you introduce me to Vu?” 

That would look very, very bad. The day Callista bought her freedom, the Empire bore down on the city that Vu had holed himself up in. She knew what it looked like, and she wasn’t about to return to feel his wrath. She decided honesty was the best policy. “I was only an indentured servant.” 

“Oh.” Aayla seemed genuinely taken aback. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“How would you have known?” 

“I don’t know. I’m a bounty hunter. I’m supposed to, you know, read these things.” 

Callista smiled. She knew it was wrong to trust people, but she really liked this Twi’lek. She’d never made a friend before, and wondered if this was what it felt like. “You certainly did a good enough job of keeping me unawares and catching me. Usually I’m faster than that.” 

Aayla laughed. “No one is faster than a Glie bounty hunter.” 

“Oh, so you’re a family of bounty hunters?” 

“Mmmm, you could say that. Fruit?” Aayla brushed Callista’s hand with a piece of dried fruit, and Callista declined the fruit. Aayla took a big bite, and her next words were through a mouthful of food. “Suit yourself. My family aren’t bounty hunters, mostly, but my brother Lol’wofe just joined the business. He’s doing pretty well for himself, and I figured, hey? What’s the harm in following my big brother?” 

Callista nodded. She couldn’t imagine being in a family that loved and cared about you, and leaving them, but she didn’t want to be rude. “How does Lol’wofe feel about it?” 

“I dunno. He won’t work with me, says I’m his kid sister.” 

“What’s the age difference between you?” 

“I’m twenty-four, he’s twenty-five.” 

Callista thought for a moment, doing the math on her own life. “I’m twenty-five,” she said. “I wouldn’t call you a kid sister tagalong.” 

“Well, I appreciate it,” Aayla sounded genuine—her voice was so genuine. 

Outisde, the crunch of boots let the two women know the Empire was passing by. Their conversation drew to a pause as they heard the footsteps draw dangerously close to where they were sitting. After a few moments, they receded, but the tension in the air remained. 

“I heard they found a rebel base nearby,” Aayla whispered. It seemed too dangerous to speak out loud now. “That’s why they’re here.” 

Callista was surprised. “You mean they’re not here for Vu?” 

“Why would they be here for Vu?” Aayla replied, perplexed. “He do anything big recently?” 

“I-I don’t know.” Callista racked her brain, trying to think of anything that could have tipped off the Empire. All she’d been doing the past few weeks--except for her side jobs earning freedom money—had been normal, menial tasks. She hadn’t had a big slicer job for Vu in at least a month. “They could still go after him.” 

“They probably will,” Aayla agreed. “That puts you in a rough position, doesn’t it?” 

“Shit.” Vu was going to think it was Callista who had tipped off the Empire, even though that was ridiculous. She had no interest in retribution against him for stealing the years from her life: that was just what he did. It wasn’t personal. If she’d wanted retribution, she would’ve gone after Fah Gumah. Which still wasn’t off the table, of course, but it would have to wait until after she had rescued Lyra. “I suppose I need to get off this planet then. You wouldn’t happen to know of anywhere I can get a ship, would you?” 

“Now? Under a curfew? With the Empire patrolling the streets?” Aayla laughed, but it wasn’t unkind. “Not unless you know someone who already has a ship ready to go.” 

Callista swore again. “I don’t know anybody. I’ve been a slave for the past ten years.” Everyone she’d known and loved—except for Lyra—had been killed on Corscant on that day. 

“Wrong!” Aayla’s voice raised a little above a whisper, but she quickly brought it down. “You know me.” 

“You have a ship?” 

“I do.” 

“I suppose,” Callista paused for a moment, unsure of how to phrase this question, “you wouldn’t take me with you, would you?” 

“What, three years’ work for passage?” Aayla’s voice was teasing, but Callista responded seriously. 

“If that’s what it takes. I have to find my sister.” 

There was a small pause. “I’m not going to make you my servant, Callista. I was only joking. Of course I’ll take you with me. I’ll even help you find your sister—under one condition.” 

“What’s that?” 

“You have to help me find Xiiz Zyosh.” 

Callista paused to consider for a moment, although there really wasn’t anything to consider. She was being offered free passage by a bright, naïve, beautiful Twi’lek. All she needed to do in return was help her find a child murderer. “All right.” 

Aayla let out a laugh. “Great! Zyosh is my first mark, so I’m a little nervous. Now, to get to my ship we’re gonna have to wait until nightfall, okay?” 

“What do we do while we wait?” 

Aayla held out her hand again. “Fruit?”


	3. Chapter 3

Three 

City of Phelar, Eriadu 

Nightfall 

The rest of the day passed easily. Aayla was a wonderful conversationalist, and Callista had no problem finding things to talk to her about. It was one of the first times she’d had a real conversation with someone that wasn’t barking orders at her or asking her to take her clothes off for their viewing pleasure since she was fifteen. She found herself trusting Aayla a little bit more—but not too much. She wouldn’t tell her where she was from, or what had happened to her parents. She was also pretty mum on the subject of her years as a servant. Aayla seemed to sense this, and didn’t try to push her at all. Callista was silently grateful. 

It was hard to tell when nightfall fell, because to Callista, the dark stayed dark. But after a few hours, Aayla stood up. “It is time,” she announced. 

“How can you tell?” Callista scrambled out of her chair and palmed her light again, shining it on the floor. The floor was dirty and dusty, with only their footprints to differentiate what colour the floor was supposed to be (it looked like it had once been white). She shined her light up to get a good look at Aayla, but Aayla shook her head and Callista dropped it again. 

“I have much better night vision than you do,” Aayla offered in way of explanation. “C’mon, let’s go. We don’t have far, but it’ll be a hell of a trek with the Empire here.” 

The women cautiously approached the only unboarded window in the shack. They paused to listen. Callista was eerily calm, a juxtaposition to Aayla’s nervous energy. She noticed as they moved that Aayla could hardly sit still; she was bursting with a nervous energy that caused her whole body to shake, but she was good at hiding it. Oh well. At least she was quiet about it; sometimes when people couldn’t keep still, they made a racket, and this was the last place they needed to be making a racket. 

There was no noise at the window. Even the regular noises the city of Phelar would usually make were dampened. It was as if the Empire were a blanket, set over a noisy engine, muffling it entirely. You could hear a pin drop. Callista motioned with her head for Aayla to go first, and she obliged. When Aayla stepped into the moonlight, Callista was finally able to get a good look at her companion. 

Aayla had the look of someone elegant and composed, her brain-tails slung over her shoulder in a perfect way, her clothing brand-new and unruffled, her boots clean—not counting the dust from the floor of the shack. Her purple skin was perfectly clear, free of any scars or blemishes. However, this was undercut by her constant slouch, her aforementioned nervous energy, which seemed to mostly manifest as shaking, and her bright, curious eyes. She looked like someone who barely had her life together, but was pretending fabulously. Callista liked that energy. She was jealous of Aayla’s perfect Twi’lek figure, which was round but not as curvy as her own. 

“You done ogling?” Aayla hissed, and Callista realized she’d taken a second too long to assess her companion. She wasn’t sorry, though. Knowing who you were with could save your life, and she vowed to pay more attention to first meetings. 

Instead of answering aloud and risking making more noise, Callista silently climbed over the window. She jumped down, landing on the balls of her feet and rolling them into a perfect landing. She gestured at herself as if to say, here I am. Aayla nodded quickly, and the two of them started off down the alleyway. 

They paused at the corner to look and listen, but nobody was there. The lights in the houses were mostly off as well, meaning people were probably either asleep or too afraid to look outside. They hurried across the street, to another alleyway, and kept moving between alleys for what felt like an hour. 

Finally, Aayla reached the end of an alleyway and balled up her fist, putting it in the air like a military signal. Callista paused behind her, unimpressed. They had left the residential area of Phelar and instead were at the docks, where Callista had started her day. This left her a little nervous, but she didn’t betray anything on her face. There was a dock with a shiny-looking Razor model ship directly ahead of them, and Aayla nodded at it. Callista raised her eyebrow, impressed. Aayla had said this was her first mark, but she had to be lying. She looked very well-to-do. Aayla shrugged, though a smile tugged at her lips, amused by Callista’s awe of the ship. “It’s an older model,” she said casually. 

“How did you afford this?” Callista whispered. 

“I’ll never reveal my secrets,” Aayla winked. Her whisper wasn’t quite a whisper, and Callista automatically put a finger to her lips. Aayla’s brow wrinkled, hurt by Callista’s apparent dismissal. In response, Callista gestured at the street, which, although clear for the most part, still had mulitple small patrols of Stormtroopers. Most of them were milling about near the ships. Callista scanned quickly for the Widowmaker, and noticed with an odd mix of a happy vindication and a stab of fear that there was a group of Stormtroopers in front of it, and some were going in and leaving with items. An officer with a clipboard was marking items down as they walked past, making it unlikely to be a looting adventure. She hoped they weren’t looking for her. But why would they be? She wasn’t important to Vu. He’d made that clear. She shook her head. Focus, she reminded herself. 

Callista nodded her head towards the Razor and turned her palms upward in a question: How do we get there? Aayla paused. Her eyes narrowed as she calculated. Callista had an alarming thought, and tapped her companion’s arm. She pointed upwards, towards what was almost certainly an Empire blockade. Aayla didn’t seem to understand, and Callista leaned in close to her ear to whisper, “How do we get past them twice?” 

Aayla looked up for just a moment before nodding slowly. She leaned into Callista’s ear and whispered, “Trust me?” She leaned back, her eyes bright, waiting for the response. 

Trust? Callista didn’t want to trust this girl, or anyone for that matter. But what choice did she have? She nodded, once. 

Aayla grabbed Callista’s hand and the two of them streaked across the street, before Callista could object. “Hey!” Called a Stormtrooper behind them, but they were already at the Razor’s door. Aayla threw it open and pushed Callista inside, following quickly and slamming the door behind them. “Come on, come on!” Aayla exclaimed, pushing past Callista, stunned into silence, to climb into the pilot’s seat. She started pressing buttons, starting up the engine, and the ship began to move. “Get in the seat!” Aayla exclaimed as she reached over with one hand to spin the copilot’s seat around. 

Callista’s hesitation ended as the banging on the Razor’s door began. She launched herself into the copilot’s seat, spinning to face the dashboard. Aayla’s hand reached over and pulled the seatbelt out of its spot as the Razor started to take off. “Safety first!” She called over the engine. 

“What do I do?!?!?!?!” Callista exclaimed, frantically buckling herself in. The dashboard shimmered with lights and buttons she had no idea the function of. She knew how to hack ships, not to fly them. This ship was nicer than anything she’d been able to work on recently; instead of roaring, the engine almost purred. 

Aayla flipped a lever as the Razor gained a little altitude. They could see the Empire blockade above them, keeping them in Eriadu’s airspace. “Hold on tight,” she advised. “This might be the last thing we ever do.” Callista looked over to see if she was joking, but her jaw was set and she seemed determined. She looked over and grinned nervously. “See you on the other side.” 

With that, Aayla flipped the switch and the Razor launched into lightspeed.


	4. Chapter Four

Four 

Space 

“YOU JUMPED TO LIGHTSPEED IN ERIADU AIRSPACE!” Callista was screaming. She had unbuckled her seat and already thrown up several times in the Razor’s small bathroom. Aayla had put the Razor on autopilot and was standing behind her, feeling useless. 

“Yes, I did,” Aayla said, uneasy. This wasn’t the first time Callista had reiterated this point. 

“We could’ve died!” Callista exclaimed, sitting up and leaning against the small metal toilet. Unlike the exterior of the Razor, most of the interior was built for comfort—except this bathroom. It was metal and industrial, and right now, crowded. 

“But we didn’t,” pointed out Aayla unhelpfully. 

“But we could’ve,” countered Callista. She knew she was being at least a little unfair; Aayla had saved them from the Empire. But she—and her now thrown-up breakfast—was still a little unsettled from the quick transition. “You need to warn me next time.” She shut her eyes and leaned back. “That was the first meal I’ve eaten as a free woman in ten years.” Her voice cracked a little, and she scolded herself to keep it together. She never cried in front of people. She hadn’t since she was fifteen years old, promising Lyra she’d take care of her, drying her sister’s tears. Not a single tear had she shed since that point, not even in the rare moments she was alone. So why the hell was she sitting in this strange woman’s bathroom, fighting back tears? 

Aayla slowly crouched down. “Hey,” she said. “Are you okay?” 

Callista nodded furiously, the hot tears biting at her eyes betraying her. “Of course I’m okay, I’m just sick.” 

“How can I help you?” 

This threw Callista for a moment. Nobody had asked her if they could help her since she was a child, and it felt strange. Several tears dropped as she paused to consider. She’d had a hell of a day already. It had started the same way the rest of her days started, stuck in a hold with dozens of other people, viewed as property, and now here she was, a free woman, sitting next to a toilet that was full of her own vomit, crying in front of a near stranger who had shown her kindness. It was a hell of a situation for sure, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. This was completely uncharted territory. She took a very shaky breath. “Can you get me some water?” Asking for even this small thing felt like a betrayal of her core principles, and she began sobbing. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” Aayla said awkwardly. She disappeared for a moment, and returned with a glass of water, which she set on the floor in front of Callista. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you got airsick, or whatever this is. I didn’t mean to--” 

“You didn’t-” Callista paused. She smushed her eyes shut and held her breath, an old trick she had learned for when she needed to stop crying quickly. Crying was a weakness she couldn’t afford. She swallowed, hard, and opened her eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You got us out of there. Sorry I overreacted.” 

Now Aayla shook her head. “No, I’m sorry for not warning you ahead of time.” She sat down on the floor across from Callista, a little awkwardly. “Are you okay?” 

Callista nodded slowly as she drank her water. She was, really. She knew Aayla hadn’t meant any harm, and she did genuinely feel bad for screaming at the Twi’lek. Aayla was the only person in a decade who had done anything for her out of kindness, and Callista wanted so badly to believe it meant she was good. Nobody had been good, not around her, not since she lost Lyra. She didn’t even know if the goodness she had known as a child was real, or if it had all been some kind of trick, her naivete forcing her to ignore people’s ulterior motives. Aayla had ulterior motives, Callista knew. Aayla needed Callista for her underworld knowledge; that was the only reason she’d gotten her off that planet. Callista wasn’t dumb. She knew the way of things. But she wanted to trust Aayla. She wanted to have a friend. She drained her water slowly, the gears of her mind spinning round and round as she tried to figure out what her next move should be. Now that she was off Eriadu, she didn’t technically have to stick with Aayla—and she probably shouldn’t. But—here she looked up at the Twi’lek--she didn’t want to. Aayla was kind to her, and she desperately needed kindness. 

“You wanna sit somewhere else?” Aayla interrupted her thoughts gently. “The bathroom floor can’t be the most comfortable place to recover from spacesickness.” 

“I’m not spacesick,” Callista insisted, but her croaky, raw voice betrayed her. Stupid body, always betraying her. “All right. Let’s sit somewhere else.” 

They moved back into the cockpit, Callista in the copilot’s seat and Aayla in her pilot’s seat. After ensuring Callista was comfortable—grabbing another glass of water and insisting on bringing a comfy blanket out—Aayla slung her braintails over the back of the pilot’s seat and put her feet up on the dashboard, careful to avoid any buttons. “So. We need some ground rules.” 

Callista gestured at the space outside the window. “Ground rules?” 

Aayla laughed loudly and unexpectedly. Callista chuckled with her, a little nervously. As Aayla continued, Callista lost her nervousness, and soon, the two of them were cry-laughing together. After what felt like a pleasant eternity, Aayla wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at Callista. Her face crinkled up again in humor as she noticed how red Callista’s usually pale face was. “Your skin matches your hair,” she observed, not unkindly. 

Callista nodded. She was still laughing. “Yeah, it’s a family curse. Pale skin until we get emotional, then it’s red as red can be.” 

“Humans are weird,” Aayla replied simply. 

“Agreed.” 

“All right,” Aayla giggled just a bit more. “We need some space rules. Number one: next time I do some crazy maneuver, I have to tell you first. That leads into rule number two: no throwing up anywhere but the toilet.” 

“Fair enough,” Callista agreed. “Rule three: we have to laugh together like that once a day.” 

Aayla nodded. “Keep making jokes, then.” 

“It wasn’t even that good of a joke,” Callista shrugged. 

“No, it wasn’t,” Aayla agreed, her eyes shining. “But I loved it. Keep cracking bad jokes, and you can be my copilot permanently.” 

Callista paused again. Here was Aayla again, making Callista feel safe, flippantly. She didn’t even think about the things that she said; she just said them. She just offered things and help without regard for how it would affect her. It was naïve, and Callista almost felt bad. No, scratch that. She did feel bad. Someone was going to take advantage of Aayla sooner or later, and Callista wanted to protect her from that. This much joy in a sentient being shouldn’t exist, but here it was, and she wanted to protect it. She smiled back. “I think I’d like that. But we have to find my sister first.” 

Aayla nodded, serious suddenly. “I have an idea about that. I was thinking maybe we could look for Zyosh in Cato Neimoidia.” 

Callista tried to think of everything she could remember about Cato Neimoidia; she hadn’t visited it, but she’d heard stories from some of Vu’s other servants, who had been stolen from the planet. “Isn’t Cato Nemoidia crawling with the Empire?” 

“And the Crimson Dawn,” Aayla responded. “I think that Zyosh might be trying his luck hiding with them.” 

“Why would he do that?” Callista, of course, knew about the Crimson Dawn. Vu had a healthy respect for Dryden Vos, the leader of the band. The Crimson Dawn, for its part, had a reputation for being ruthless. Even Vu wouldn’t get involved with them. 

“Because the Crimson Dawn would provide good protection, no?” Aayla asked. 

“Sure,” Callista reasoned, “if they accepted Zyosh and didn’t shoot him on sight.” 

“Why would they do that?” Aayla sounded genuinely confused, and Callista was struck again by the Twi’lek’s naivete. 

“I don’t think he’s with the Crimson Dawn,” Callista replied, unsure of how to explain the ruthless nature. How doesn’t she know about the way the world is? “If I were him, and I were in hiding, I would probably go to an Outer Rim planet, like Tattooine.” She’d done several jobs on Tattooine, and it was a rough place. Nothing good could come from there. 

Aayla was already shaking her head. Her braintails shook behind her, brushing the dashboard. “No way. Tattooine is where Korpath the Hutt’s lair is. He wouldn’t hide on the same planet as the gangster with a warrant out for his death, would he?” 

“Hmm. Maybe not. But what makes you think he’s with the Crimson Dawn?” 

“A gut feeling,” replied Aayla. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a small black device with a pulsing red light. “Plus, this tracking fob.” 

“You have a tracking fob?” Callista exclaimed. “What the hell do you need me for!” 

“I can’t talk to these people,” Aayla responded, a little hurt. “I can find him, but I don’t know how to talk to criminals.” 

Callista sat back fully in her chair. “You’re saying you only brought me along to talk to lawbreakers for you?” 

“No,” Aayla said indignantly. “I wanted to help you. You seemed lost.” She paused for a moment. “But you don’t have to, I suppose. You could just leave when we get to Cato Neimoidia.” 

Callista knew that. She almost out loud, “I know,” but she didn’t. She sighed. “I’ll help you if you help me look for my sister.” 

Aayla nodded vigorously. “Of course. We’ll go through Tarko-se first, and you can ask questions. Someone has to have some kind of information.” 

Callista nodded. “All right. We’ll go to Cato Neimoidia. But I don’t want to get shot for you.” 

“You won’t,” Aayla assured. 

Callista wanted to believe her. She had a bad feeling about this.


	5. Chapter Five

Five 

Late afternoon 

City of Tarko-se, Cato Neimoidia 

The cities of Cato Neimoidia held the unique distinction of being built between mountains, slung across like hammocks. They rose above the clouds, and as the Razor made its final approach, Callista was struck by its beauty. She remembered Jafan Desyk, one of Vu’s indentured servants, and how he had spoken of the beauty of this planet, his homeworld, and felt a chord of sorrow strike her. Desyk wasn’t kind to her, exactly, but he wasn’t unkind either, and it was a little heartbreaking that he would never see this planet again; he had been sold into a contract of four hundred years. His children would be working off his sentence, and their children after them, and theirs after them, and so on for several generations. Callista’s sorrow lessened a bit and turned into anxiety as they landed at Tarko-se's spaceport. She’d slept and eaten another meal—Aayla had served very watery stew—so she wasn’t going in weak, but she hadn’t been here before. She didn’t know what parts of this city to avoid, she didn’t know whom she could trust, and worse than that, Aayla was counting on her to know these things. Worse than that—worst of all—Lyra was counting on her. Lyra didn’t know yet that Callista was coming for her, and Callista wanted her sister’s freedom as fast as possible. As they disembarked the Razor, she patted her coin purse, to make sure it was there and full. The familiar, comfortable weight of her small blaster between her breasts gave her a little comfort as she stepped onto the dock at Tarko-se, the first place she’d set foot on as a free woman. 

She was terrified. 

Aayla elbowed Callista gently, and tilted her chin towards a small building with the Nemoidian symbol for “information” above it. They headed in that direction, entering the building to find a tired-looking Nemoidian behind a desk with a terminal on it. She looked up as they walked in, and gestured towards the empty chairs. “Take a seat, please.” 

There’s no one else here, thought Callista, but she and Aayla sat down anyway. After several minutes, the Nemoidian woman nodded at them. “I’ll see you now.” 

Callista approached the desk, confused but keeping it together. “I was looking for information on my sister,” she said hopefully. 

“Name?” 

“Um. Mine or hers?” 

“Hers,” the woman answered, exasperated. 

“Um. Lyra Tallon.” 

The woman clicked something into the terminal. “Hasn’t been through here.” 

Callista turned, frustrated, but Aayla gestured at her to keep going. Callista sighed and turned back. “She may have been with a, uh, family friend of ours?” 

“Name?” 

“Xis Zyosh.” 

The woman clicked again. “Yes, he was here. But it looks like he was alone.” 

“Where did he go?” Aayla piped up from behind. 

“I don’t know,” the woman snapped. “I only know who has landed. Only ship’s manifests. He hasn’t left, though, so look around long enough and you’ll find him.” 

“Thank you,” Aayla answered primly. 

The woman didn’t respond. “More questions?” 

“No, ma’am,” Callista said quickly, and ushered Aayla out the door and down the dock, towards the city proper. 

“She was nice,” grumbled Aayla. 

“We got the information,” Callista replied. “We can’t complain.” 

“I can complain,” Aayla huffed, and Callista tried not to laugh. Aayla was like a child sometimes, and her crossed-arm walk was very childlike. 

The city of Tarko-se was a bustling one. Their major attraction was the casinos, and barkers stood outside, yelling about the virtues of their respective businesses. People bustled around, boisterous as they exited and entered various casinos, drunk on alcohol and the joy of winning money. It was primarily a Nemoidian city, and most of those who appeared to be working were Nemoidians, but tourists of every race and gender abounded. Callista took Aayla’s hand firmly in her own, and with her other hand gripped her coin purse. She wasn’t losing anything today. 

“Where are we going?” Aayla asked as they’d been walking for what felt like an hour, deeper and deeper into the city. Here there were fewer casinos and more homely-looking businesses. 

Callista had been looking at every business as they passed, looking for a suitable one, and she finally spotted one: a seedy-looking diner next to a small building with multiple scantily-clad women outside of it. She took Aayla inside the diner and they seated themselves at a table. “Why here?” Aayla asked curiously as a tired-looking Nemoidian man came up to them. 

“May I take your order?” He asked. 

“Yes, two of your house special drink, please,” Callista replied, and as he disappeared, she leaned across the table to whisper to Aayla: “We need to be where the locals are.” 

“Why?” 

“Where would you hide? In a tourist trap frequented by the Empire, or in a local business, where you can make friends who’ll have your back?” 

Aayla nodded as their waiter returned with two bubbling, purple drinks. “Anything more for you?” 

“No, thank you,” Aayla said, flashing him a smile. He smiled back at her, and his eyes flicked up and down the length of her body. Callista flinched as his eyes slid over to her, undressing her with his eyes as she could do nothing but sit there for it. When he left, she sat back, disgusted, and sighed. 

“What?” Aayla asked, her eyes wide. She sipped her drink and made a face. 

“You didn’t notice?” Callista tasted her own drink; it was nasty. It tasted like oil, which was something she’d tasted before, shoved down into a pile of it by one of Vu’s meaner guards. “The way he was looking at us?” 

“No?” 

“He wants our bodies,” Callista spat. “Like we were whores next door.” 

“There are whores next door?” Aayla asked. She sounded surprised. 

“You didn’t notice all the women outside?” 

“I thought it was a theatre,” Aayla replied. “Oh.” 

“How have you survived all this time?” Callista asked incredulously. 

She hadn’t meant it to be mean, but Aayla straightened up in indignation. “Look, just because I don’t know that much about the galaxy doesn’t mean I can’t learn.” 

Callista raised her hands as if to show her innocence. “I didn’t mean to insult you,” she said. “I just meant, well, you don’t know much about the galaxy. You must have had a much more privileged upbringing than I did.” She paused, then tried for levity. “Not that that’s hard.” 

Her attempt worked; Aayla relaxed a little. “I suppose privilege is a good word for it. We were pretty well-off back on Ryloth.” 

Pretty well-off seemed like a vast understatement, based on Aayla’s complete lack of understanding about basic things. Hell, she’d tried to find Jhox Vu to help her with her first mark as a bounty hunter; clearly, she needed some help. Callista wondered vaguely if Aayla’s brother Lol’wofe was as naïve as she was. “Well, good thing you picked up a guide, then,” Callista said simply. 

Aayla blinked at her. “You’re not leaving, then?” 

“You still thought I was leaving?” Callista was surprised. 

“Yes. I thought you were going to dump me here with Creepo the Waiter,” Aayla answered in a small voice. 

Callista couldn’t think of a good response. She probably should leave; it wasn’t very good to have someone so naïve with her who would only slow her down and need everything explained to her. But she liked Aayla. She didn’t want to leave her. She found the naivete endearing in some way, and she really did want to help her. But she also didn’t want to let her know how much she needed her kindness around; letting people know how much you need them only gives them leverage against you. But Aayla looked so hurt, so small. Callista’s heart went out to her. “I promise I won’t leave you until we’ve found Xiiz Zyosh and my sister.” 

Aayla grinned, a lopsided grin, happiness radiating off her face. “Excellent. Now you’re stuck with me.” 

Callista smiled back at Aayla. Her joy was back, and it was radiating onto Callista. Sure, Aayla needed Callista as a guide through the galaxy, but Callista needed Aayla as well, to remind her that good still existed. 

They sat at the diner for hours, with no sign of Zyosh anywhere. They drank a house special every hour or so and finally ordered dinner (some kind of meat and grains). As night began to fall, Callista paid the waiter, leaving a tip, and flicked her head towards the door. “We should go find somewhere to sleep.” 

“Oh,” Aayla said, surprised. “I thought we were going to sleep on the Razor.” 

Callista considered that for a moment. “We could,” she said. “But we’re a little far. And we’d learn more staying in the city.” 

“All right,” said Aayla. “Where should we go?” 

They ended up at a small cheap inn a few doors down from the diner they’d spent the day in. Callista was starting to feel the alcoholic drinks; she had never really had alcohol to begin with, and she’d had at least five at the diner. She didn’t like the fuzziness she was feeling, and she felt a lot better once she was behind a locked door. 

The inn’s room was small; the furniture consisted of two small beds, a wooden bench, and a small cabinet for personal effects, of which they had none. Aayla sat down heavily on the bed closest to the door. “Dank farrick,” she swore, “I’m drunk.” 

“We shouldn’t have gotten drunk,” Callista agreed, sitting down on the other bed. She leaned back, staring at the ceiling. It was plain wood, but Callista thought she could see the patterns of stars in the grains of the wood. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. 

Thump. Callista’s eyes opened into the dark. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but she had a massive headache, and her stomach seemed to be doing flips. 

Thump. 

There was that noise again. Callista sat up—an act which her stomach protested with a loud gurgle—and reached into her sock for her knife. 

Thump. 

“Who’s there?” She called out. 

Silence. 

“I’m armed,” this time she was whispering. 

Suddenly, a blade appeared across her throat. “So am I,” hissed a voice into her ear.


	6. Chapter 6

Six 

Just after midnight 

City of Tarko-se, Cato Neimoidia 

Callista had never been hungover before, so she was surprised when, instead of freezing up in response to a knife at her throat, her body convulsed, and she vomited violently. Whoever was holding a knife at her throat jumped back, apparently just as surprised as she was. Callista finished throwing up and took the opportunity to pull out her gun, standing up and turning to face her attacker. Standing behind her bed, a shocked expression on his face, was a Twi’lek, the same colour as Aayla. 

Aayla, for her part, was sleeping through this commotion, and Callista stepped over the puddle of her own stomach acid, keeping her pistol level with the attacker’s face, as she stepped between him and the sleeping Aayla. 

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice croaky and raw. This was the second time she’d thrown up in twenty-four hours. Not a good start as a free woman. Her body felt weak—apparently a symptom of her hangover—but she forced all of her energy into keeping her gun arm steady. 

The Twi’lek man opposing her had his knife out. He very carefully wiped the blade on her bedsheets and sheathed it. “I see you are in fact armed. Put your gun away and let’s talk about this like adults.” 

Callista didn’t move. “Who are you?” She repeated. Behind her, Aayla stirred. 

The man sighed. “Not someone who’s going to hurt you. Put that gun away!” His voice was commanding, but Callista stood her ground. 

“Lol’wofe?” Aayla’s voice came from behind Callista, who refused to turn. Aayla reached out and touched Callista’s gun arm gently. “Hey, it’s okay. That’s my brother.” 

Callista, still glaring, lowered her gun. It felt unnaturally hot in the room, and sweat was beading on her forehead. Aayla flipped a switch and turned on the light, and it felt like an assault on Callista’s eyes. Her head pounded and her eyes squinted, but she refused to change her expression further. “Lol’wofe?” She asked. With the light on, it was easy to see the family resemblance. He was only a few shades lighter than Aayla, a pleasant lavender. His braintails were slung over his shoulders in a very similar way to the effortlessly graceful way Aayla slung hers. His face, however, was as dark as hers was light. 

He chose not to answer Callista, instead glaring at his sister. “What are you doing here?” 

“Shush,” Aayla said, sitting up on her bed and crossing her legs. She patted the bed next to her and Callista sat down stiffly, her blaster still in her hand. Aayla sniffed the air for a moment. “Did you throw up again?” She asked Callista, who just nodded once. “Dank farrick, I’m going to have to carry around a bottle of water for you everywhere, aren’t I?” 

“What are you doing here?” Lol’wofe reiterated his original question impatiently. 

Aayla waved her hand at him dismissively. “Probably the same as you. Xiiz Zyosh. Now, Callista--” 

“You’re looking for Xiiz Zyosh?” Lol’wofe said incredulously. 

Aayla sighed heavily. “Yes. Can I finish my conversation wi--” 

“You must be crazy!” Lol’wofe’s voice raised slightly. “What’s wrong with you? You just disappeared! Mom and Dad are going crazy looking for you!” 

Aayla leaned her head over onto Callista’s shoulder. “Lol’wofe, I’m trying to be a good friend here. Can you shut up for like two minutes?” She ignored Lol’wofe’s sputtering protests as she addressed Callista again: “Are you okay?” 

Callista was amused by Lol’wofe sputtering, but her amusement was marred by her pounding head and churning stomach. “I think I’m hungover,” she said, and paused for a moment. “I don’t think I’m going to throw up again.” 

“Good. We’ll get something greasy for you to eat when we leave. I always like fried tubers,” Aayla said. She turned back to her brother. “Now, what do you want?” 

Lol’wofe sighed loudly. He had a commanding aura, like he was used to being listened to and didn’t care for this interruption. But Callista could see, beneath that, something sort of resigned. If he’d grown up with Aayla, he must be used to this, Callista reasoned. Abruptly, she put her blaster away, just as Lol’wofe started to speak again: “I am here on behalf of the Crimson Dawn,” he announced. “You inquired this morning about Xiiz Zyosh, and it tripped an alarm bell with us.” 

Callista’s jaw dropped. “You’re not with the Crimson Dawn?” She asked incredulously. All she knew of the Crimson Dawn came from nervous whispers in Vu’s ship, men who weren’t afraid of anything, but were afraid of them. The Crimson Dawn had a startlingly ruthless reputation. Their leader, Dryden Vos, was the only man Jhox Vu had ever feared. Well, besides the Emperor and his pet, Darth Vader, that is, but you could hardly blame him for that. It was hard to believe that this man, someone who was related to Aayla, was a part of that particular organisation. 

“You’re not with the Crimson Dawn,” Aayla echoed Callista’s words, but she sounded less incredulous and more like she truly thought her brother was lying. Callista wondered vaguely if Lol’wofe lied a lot. “They wouldn’t accept you.” 

“They did,” Lol’wofe insisted indignantly. “I’m one of their finders. I find people. That’s my job. That’s how I found the two of you—although you really didn’t make it very difficult. Why did you leave Mom and Dad?” 

Aayla laid back on her bed. “That’s not really your business,” she stated. 

Lol’wofe raised an eyebrow. “All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you what is my business.” 

“What’s that?” 

“You’ve been granted an audience with the leader of the Crimson Dawn,” Lol’wofe announced with a flourish of his hands, towards the door. 

“We’re meeting Dryden Vos?” Callista exclaimed. 

“No,” said Lol’wofe, with a smile, “you’re meeting the real leader.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short! I've been very busy this week lol


	7. Chapter 7

Seven 

Early morning 

City of Tarko-se, Cato Nemoidia 

The women had agreed to meet with the “real leader” of the Crimson Dawn, but Aayla had insisted they get a full night’s sleep, as well as some breakfast—of course paid for by Lol’wofe--first. Callista had to admit that, although her sleep was fitful due to her nervousness about meeting the Crimson Dawn, Aayla had been right about fried tubers making her feel better. All that was left of her hangover as the three of them set out around dawn was a mild headache, reminding her of the night she’d had before. 

Maybe “nervousness” wasn’t the right word, she mused as they walked and Aayla chattered to her brother, who, for his part, kept up with her chatter. Callista was quiet. She was focusing on how she would interact with the leader of the Crimson Dawn, whoever they were. Maybe, she thought with a start, Lol’wofe was here to sell her back into servitude. The thought almost made her pause, but she decided to think it through first. 

When she was taken as a child, it had been quick and sudden. It had been a family friend—a trusted figure, as Lol’wofe was to Aayla—who had shown up during a crisis, the attack on the Jedi temple. She remembered the fear and uncertainty of the whole day, watching the smoke rise from the temple, and the fear she had felt, wondering if her parents would come home. When Fah Gumah had knocked on their door, she had spent the whole day trying to comfort Lyra, who was only eight at the time. Gumah had promised their parents were waiting for them, and hurried them into a transport, where a dozen or so other children of temple workers already were, their eyes wide and frightened. Callista had trusted Gumah—the last person she had trusted—and he had taken her to Jhox Vu. She compared that situation to this one. Sure, there were similarities: a trusted figure, taking the two of them—Callista and someone she felt responsible for—to a secondary location. But this felt...different, somehow. Lol’wofe had been honest, upfront with what he was doing. Yes, it was dangerous. Yes, many things could go wrong. But he hadn’t sugarcoated it. He’d told them he was taking them to a dangerous location, and he was. Callista had made the decision to go with him, a luxury Fah Gumah hadn’t given her. Lol’wofe was related to Aayla, who was trustworthy, in her experience. 

Unless she was in on it. 

That felt ridiculous. Callista had been conditioned not to trust people, she reminded herself. This was just her paranoid mind playing tricks on her. But, she thought, paranoia has kept me alive. And it had. Since Fah Gumah’s betrayal, since Jhox Vu had taken Lyra from her arms, screaming, she hadn’t trusted a single soul. It had kept her alive, unmolested, unharmed. To be self-sufficient was to be alive, and that had been her mantra. She found herself again questioning whether she could trust Aayla Grie. She wanted to, but she felt afraid. Then again, Callista realized as she stepped over a piece of bread on the city road, she already did trust Aayla. She was past the point of questioning; she had slept in the same room with her last night, and here she was, following a strange man deep into a strange city, for no other reason than the fact that Aayla trusted him. Callista realized with a start that she believed Aayla when she said things, something Callista hadn’t done in years. Trust. Friendship. 

Aayla glanced back to make sure Callista was okay, never breaking from her stream of consciousness, and grinned at her. Callista, despite herself, grinned back. As Aayla turned back to Lol’wofe, Callista found herself calmed. Yes. For better or for worse, she trusted Aayla Grie. 

She walked behind Lol’wofe and Aayla for about an hour or so—the sun had fully risen—before they reached a smallish, flat building. It was unassuming, on a street that appeared to be residential, and several men sat around the entrance, laughing and talking, some kind of card-and-dice game set out before them. As the trio approached, the men looked up, in unison, before abruptly returning to their game. 

Lol’wofe said something in a foreign language that Callista didn’t understand, and her nerves shot up again. This was the Crimson Dawn. Whatever was about to happen, she would have met the Crimson Dawn. She, a simple indentured servant, bouncing from one feared crime syndicate to another, except this time, voluntarily. The men answered Lol’wofe back in the same language, and Aayla noticed Callista’s discomfort. She offered Callista her arm, and when Callista took it, the two of them linked arms. Aayla leaned her head on Callista’s shoulder and whispered in her ear: “You feeling any better?” 

Callista nodded once. “Tubers really worked.” 

“And they’re delicious!” She could hear Aayla’s grin. 

Callista kept an eye on the men Lol’wofe was talking to. They seemed to be guards, as they had dropped any pretense of smiling and joking and were now in a serious conversation with the Twi’lek man. Callista whispered back to Aayla: “I hope everything goes okay.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Aayla whispered back, dismissively. “Lol’wofe knows what he’s doing. Haven’t you noticed his no-nonsense attitude?” 

“That’s not precisely how I would describe it,” Callista replied. Although she hadn’t thought of the word, it fit perfectly. He was commanding and serious, not the kind of person who would take any teasing or jokes. “Well, maybe it is.” 

Aayla giggled, quietly. One of the dice-and-card men noticed. He gestured at her and started speaking louder. Aayla stopped giggling and straightened up. 

“Are you going to let us in or not?” Lol’wofe snapped, in a language Callista could understand. “If not, I’ll be sure to let Vos know who kept us out.” 

The men flinched at Vos’s name, but one of them stood up stiffly. He spat on the ground, in the direction of Lol’wofe, and opened the door, almost mechanically, droid-like. Callista looked at him closer. Was he a droid? Some kind of new android, designed specifically to look as much like a man as possible? She watched as he waved Lol’wofe and the two women through, and decided it didn’t matter. She was still entering a Crimson Dawn building. 

The hallway was dark and cramped. They could only fit single file, so Callista took the back. Lol’wofe, of course, was in the front of the line, leading the procession. He took them up to a staircase leading down—at street level?--and turned around. 

“All right,” he said, directing most of his attention towards his sister. “I need the two of you to be respectful. Your very lives depend on it. Can you do that?” 

Callista nodded silently. 

“You know me,” Aayla said, loud in contrast to Callista’s silence, “always respectful.” 

“I do know you,” Lol’wofe’s voice was low. “That’s why I gave you the warning.” He sighed. “Nothing to be done about it now,” he said, as he turned around and headed down the stairs. There was only a moment of hesitation before Aayla and Callista followed him. 

The staircase was a little wider than the regular hallway, and there were several dark nooks in the corners. Callista saw movement out of one of them, and realized that they must be guarded. The light was very dim, and it was hard to tell exactly how many guards there were, but it appeared to be several dozen. The staircase was solid, but well-worn. It was made of some kind of wood, and Callista wondered again about how long it was. How long could it be, given that Tarko-Se had no underground? 

The answer, she found, was about one hundred stairs. The staircase let out into a small hallway, with a large, fancy door. A guard stood at the door, a human man, and Lol’wofe was already conversing with him by the time Callista reached level ground. She couldn’t understand any of their words—it was rapidfire in a foreign language she didn’t recognize, possibly the same one Lol’wofe and the guards had been using upstairs—but she did hear Lol’wofe say “Zyosh.” 

Ah. Of course. So this was about Zyosh. Maybe Aayla had been right, and he was hiding with the Crimson Dawn. It was a bit of a long shot, but she figured it wasn’t impossible. She would never have done it. Whoever this Zyosh was, he was definitely braver than Callista. 

Finally the guard knocked on the door, twice, and opened it. He gestured towards the dark cavernous room beyond and smiled, a horrible smile that offered no comfort. It triggered Callista’s fight-or-flight, but she watched Lol’wofe and Aayla walk past calmly, and decided that she, too, could be calm. She entered the room, and the door slammed shut behind her. 

This room was large, dark, and cavernous, as she had seen from the hallway. It was also empty. “What the hell is this?” Callista asked, and her voice echoed around. 

“Don’t be impatient now,” Lol’wofe instructed. He knelt down in the centre of the room and pressed a button on the floor. A blue hologram blinked open, filling the room, of a Dathomirian man, horned, with a red and black face. His yellow eyes held cruelty, but also pain. 

Lol’wofe bowed to him. “Lord Maul, I am here as I promised, to beg forgiveness for my sister. She didn’t know what she was doing, and she doesn’t deserve death.” 

“All deserve death,” Maul said, boredly. “Your sister is two people?” 

“No,” Lol’wofe responded. “I care not for the second. Spare my sister’s life, I beg of you. She did not know Zyosh was under your protection.” 

Callista’s stomach dropped. This was exactly like Fah Gumah.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight 

Mid-morning 

City of Tarko-se, Cato Nemoidia 

Callista didn’t know what to do. Should she try to cut and run? No, the guards on the stairs and outside would kill her before she could make it halfway to freedom, and then she’d be on Crimson Dawn’s shit list. Well, it looked like she’d already accomplished that feat. What, then? Should she try to take Lol’wofe hostage, bargain for her own life and Aayla’s? This Maul, whoever he was, didn’t really look like the forgiving type; he would probably have her killed for something like that, and that’s even if she were able to pull it off. Lol’wofe was a head taller than she was, and he’d already put her at knifepoint once. She’d only escaped by surprising him—and she didn’t have the slightest inclination how to pull that particular trick off again. She suspected he didn’t want to kill her that time, which was part of the reason she was still alive. 

This all paled in comparison to the loud voice in her head screaming about how she had been right to be paranoid. Nobody had her best interests at heart. Aayla was kind, but she was dumb enough to trust Lol’wofe, to walk into a trap, the building of a man who wanted her dead. And Lol’wofe was fool enough to walk his sister into the same trap. 

Callista had a very vivid flashback of standing in Jhox Vu’s office when he announced that no one under the age of ten could stay. She remembered very clearly holding Lyra as tightly as she could, promising never to let go, when Lyra was cruelly ripped from her arms, tears streaming down her face, screaming for Callista’s help, help it had taken her a decade to build the resources to even begin to provide, help that may never come now. And it was all her fault, for being stupid enough to make public inquiries about someone with a bounty on their head. 

“Excuse me, what?” Aayla piped up, cutting off Callista’s reveries. She cut off Maul, whose hologram was just opening its mouth to say something, and looked surprised at her. “Who wants me dead? You?” 

Maul’s head inclined as he considered Aayla. “You are the one looking for Zyosh?” He asked. 

Aayla nodded. She wasn’t afraid at all, in contrast to Callista, whose fear had frozen her. Aayla stepped back, linking her arm to Callista’s, and continued, “I am Aayla Grie, bounty hunter.” There wasn’t a trace of anything but pride in her voice. “This is my assistant and partner, Callista Tallon. We are searching for Xiiz Zyosh at the behest of Korpath the Hutt, who is mourning the loss of his daughter.” 

“Are you aware that Xiiz Zyosh is under my protection?” Maul asked. 

“We are now,” Aayla replied. “We weren’t before.” 

“How did you come to Cato Nemoidia unaware of the Crimson Dawn’s protection of Zyosh?” Maul didn’t seem angry, just genuinely curious. Maybe Aayla’s strategy of being stupidly brave was working. Callista didn’t allow herself for a second to think it would, but it was an interesting way to spend her last few moments, she thought. It was like a story, one where she would almost certainly die at the end, but one she could definitely enjoy while it lasted. 

“We were only searching for two people,” Aayla responded, and Callista’s stomach dropped again. She didn’t want Lyra’s name mentioned in front of this man, but she found herself unable to say something, to stop Aayla. “We are searching for Xiiz Zyosh, as I said, and we are searching for Lyra Tallon.” 

“Lyra Tallon?” Maul repeated. “I know of her. Why are you searching for her? Wait.” He cut off Aayla with that. “You,” he said, focusing his attention on Callista, “are Callista Tallon. That would make this Lyra, who, your sister?” 

Callista nodded. This was a plot twist she hadn’t expected. “That’s right. She and I were sold into indentured servitude ten years ago. I bought my own freedom and I am looking for her to purchase hers.” 

Maul chuckled slightly. “The two of you are perhaps not a threat to us, as we had thought,” he mused aloud. “Perhaps asking for a hit on you was excessive, as my young apprentice tried to tell me.” At this, Lol’wofe stiffened. “Very well. I shall let the two of you be, under the condition that you stop in your search for Zyosh.” He chuckled. “After all, he’s just outside this door. You’ve already found him.” 

Callista realized that when Lol’wofe had been arguing with the guard outside, when he said said “Zyosh,” he was referring to the man by name, not stating the topic of his visit. She cursed herself for being so stupid as to not pick that up. She really was slipping, in Aayla’s presence. She vowed to herself to do better, so as not to put them in this situation again. That is, if they got out of this one. Maul had promised to let them be, but she wasn’t sure what that meant, or if they’d need to try to fight their way out. She didn’t have much ammunition, maybe a dozen or so rounds, far smaller than the number of guards she’d seen. She didn’t know how much she could count on Lol’wofe; she thought he might try to get Aayla out, at least, but he’d admitted to not caring about Callista herself. Her thoughts were cut off by Aayla, of course. 

“Listen,” she was saying, “Korpath the Hutt hired me--” 

“Do you fear Korpath the Hutt?” Maul interrupted her in a thundering voice. Callista flinched, instinctively putting her hand over her heart, close enough to grab her blaster, but without arousing suspicion. 

Aayla, for her part, finally seemed to realize the danger they were in. Her voice was small as she answered, “No.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Maul said. “You should fear me. And I am telling you to leave Zyosh alone. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,”Aayla answered, just as quietly. 

Callista tried to steady her own breathing as Maul sighed deeply. “Grie,” he addressed Lol’wofe here, “why did you bring them to me?” 

“I wanted only to beg for my sister’s life,” Lol’wofe said, his voice steady, though Callista could hear a fear behind his façade. Good, she thought. Serves you right for trying to turn us in. 

“Beg you did,” acknowledged Maul. “And I was merciful, no?” 

“Yes, you were merciful,” Lol’wofe responded. “I beg of you, extend that same mercy to me.” 

“Siths are not known for their mercy,” Maul stated, and Callista’s blood ran cold. She hadn’t realized Maul—Darth Maul—was a Sith. He was a part of the same ancient order as Darth Vader, and he was legendary for his ruthlessness. Callista had heard stories of Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi who worked with her parents, a Jedi she had met once, very briefly, at the temple. He had turned to the Dark Side of the Force, dragged into the Sith order by the Emperor Palpatine. She had often wondered if Darth Vader had been responsible for her parents’ deaths. She knew he was indirectly responsible, of course; he had started the attack on the temple, of course, but had he been the one to strike them down? She’d heard the stories of how he had cut down the youngest Jedi trainees, a group her mother had loved, and tried to protect. Had her mother died protecting the children? And here was another, set down the same dark path, indoctrinated into the same order. She didn’t know what had set Darth Maul down the path of the Dark Side of the Force, but judging by the stories of Anakin Skywalker’s descent and Darth Vader’s rise, she could only imagine the atrocities Darth Maul had committed. She could only hope that he wasn’t about to commit another one. Her only comfort was the fact that he was a hologram, and not physically present. Then again, she’d heard stories of Darth Vader murdering people through holograms, with the power of the Force. She wasn’t sure about the limits of Force power, but she did not want to stick around and find out. The hand that wasn’t brushing the outline of her blaster caught one of Aayla’s hand, and Callista gave her a wide-eyed stare, silently communicating the gravity of this situation. Aayla, humbled by Darth Maul, seemed to understand. 

“My lord--” Lol’wofe began, but Darth Maul cut him off. 

“Don’t whimper. There will be consequences for this later, Grie. But for now, take your wards and leave. I want them off my planet by sunrise. And I want you back here by sunset. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, my lord,” Lol’wofe said meekly. 

Darth Maul blinked, and the hologram fizzed out. The three of them stood for a moment, the silence so thick you could slice through it with a saber. Aayla was still, having been shocked and humbled into speechlessness by Darth Maul. Callista could read Aayla’s wildly changing emotions on her face, ranging from surprise—probably about being right about Zyosh, something Callista herself was surprised about—to utter humiliation. Lol’wofe shared her humiliated look, and he seemed to be putting a vast effort into keeping himself from screaming. Callista, for her own part, was shell-shocked. She couldn’t believe how many plot twists her last few minutes had held. First, Lol’wofe’s betrayal. Then, Aayla being correct about the Crimson Dawn’s protection of Xiiz Zyosh. She didn’t know what they were going to do now, but as she had that thought, she realized that there wasn’t a “they” or a “them” anymore. Now that Zyosh was untouchable, Aayla had no need of her. She’d have to find her own passage off the planet, to find Lyra. Of course, that is, if it all wasn’t a trick by Darth Maul. He was a Sith. She had just met a Sith, and lived to tell the tale. She couldn’t imagine anything more ridiculous. It was like a bad joke told by one of Vu’s security guards. 

It was a joke. Life was a joke. Callista burst out laughing suddenly, overcome by the humor of it all the death she had only just escaped. She laughed for a moment, caught up in everything, before a wave of terror rushed over her. She was still in the lair of a Sith, surrounded by his guards, and a man who had tried to turn her into said Sith. The terror sobered her laughter, and as she met eyes with Lol’wofe, it was just as suddenly replaced with anger. 

“How could you?!” She screeched at him. “You took me in here and only begged for one life?” 

“You survived,” Lol’wofe replied coldly. 

“You shouldn’t have taken her,” Aayla jumped in to defend Callista, and Callista shot her a grateful smile. “Come to think of it, you should’ve told us the leader of the Crimson Dawn wanted us dead.” 

“You should’ve told us the leader of the Crimson Dawn is a Sith,” Callista spat. 

“I should’ve,” Lol’wofe acknowledged. “I made mistakes. But it seemingly worked out for the two of you; Darth Maul showed you mercy. May I only hope to be so lucky.” 

Callista found herself unable to care if Lol’wofe received mercy or not. All she wanted to do was get back to Tarko-se proper, find herself a way off this rock, and find her sister. The galaxy wasn’t making it easy to find Lyra, and every moment she spent in this evil underground chamber was a moment her sister was languishing in slavery.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine 

Late Afternoon 

City of Tarko-se, Cato Nemoidia 

Lol’wofe had bought them lunch, the second meal of the day he had purchased for him. He seemed preoccupied, probably considering what was awaiting him at sunset in Darth Maul’s lair. The cantina they were in was bustling, but they were in a quiet corner. They ate in relative silence, Callista stewing in her anger at Lol’wofe, and even Aayla in silence after the morning they had had. 

Aayla threw down her spoon halfway through the meal. “You’re his apprentice?” She demanded of her brother. “You didn’t leave Mom and Dad to become a bounty hunter. You left to become his apprentice?” 

Lol’wofe seemed surprised, but he kept his composure. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“Can you access the Force?” Aayla demanded, although she had the presence of mind to keep her voice down. This wasn’t a good conversation to be overheard. 

“I don’t see how this is your business,” Lol’wofe repeated firmly. 

“You made it our business by dragging us down to some godforsaken underground shithole run by a Sith,” Callista hissed through her teeth. 

This seemed to shut Lol’wofe up for a moment, and the trio returned to silence. 

“Are you okay?” Aayla broke the silence again, but this time she was talking to Callista. 

“I’m okay,” Callista reassured her. “Are-are you okay?” She added this as an afterthought, almost. She wasn’t used to having someone around she was responsible for, and Darth Maul thundering at Aayla earlier couldn’t have been a great feeling. 

Aayla shrugged nonchalantly, and Callista noticed she’d eaten most of the food on her plate. She was at least okay enough to do that, then. “I’m all right, I suppose. Just wondering what my only brother is doing running around with the-” Here Callista made sharp eye contact with her, and she dropped her voice. “-the Crimson Dawn. Mom and Dad would kill you if they knew.” 

“Well, rest assured they don’t know,” Lol’wofe answered through gritted teeth. Callista noticed he’d barely touched his food, and all the motion of his silverware was just him pushing it around the plate. He had, however, drained a couple of alcoholic drinks, and while his sister continued, he drained the last one he had and began motioning for a waiter to refill it. 

“Mom and Dad might not have to be the ones to kill you,” Aayla mused aloud, ignorant of or just ignoring her brother’s attempt to drown his sorrows in liquor. “Not if this guy gets to you first. It was pretty stupid of you to--” 

“Yeah, well, I saved your life, so you’re welcome.” Lol’wofe slammed his glass down on the table. “No one’s coming to refill this. I’m going up to the bar.” With that, he stormed off in the direction of the bar. 

“Nice guy,” Callista observed dryly. 

Aayla sighed heavily. “He’s such an idiot. This isn’t what our parents wanted for him.” 

Callista chewed on a piece of meat, trying to think of how best to address what needed to be addressed: their future plans. She knew she needed to get herself to the docks if she wanted to find a way off the ship by the time Darth Maul’s deadline hit; she did not want another run-in with him. But she also didn’t want to leave Aayla like this, in the custody of her untrustworthy brother. She also didn’t want to stay and take care of Lol’wofe either; taking care of drunks in the middle of the day wasn’t something she knew how to do, nor was it a skill she was interested in learning. On the other hand, she noticed, Aayla seemed pretty worked up, probably about her brother. Callista realized belatedly how hard this must be for Aayla. She took a moment to imagine that instead of being separated by slavery, she and her sister had left a loving home to join their respective crime syndicates. She tried to imagine Lyra, caught up with a Sith lord, and she just couldn’t. Maybe that was how Aayla was feeling. There were so many things about this situation that Callista simply could not imagine. She couldn’t imagine a loving home, and she definitely couldn’t imagine choosing to leave such a home. She couldn’t imagine her sister, her sweet sister, who caught tiny critters back on Coruscant and tried to make friends with the Jedi younglings, joining up with someone like Darth Maul. But, looking at Aayla’s demeanor, which, despite her attempt at putting on a chipper face, was despairing, she wanted to understand, so she could help. She knew it was a bad idea to extend this conversation—it could only lead to her getting more attached to Aayla than she already was—but her heart hurt for the Twi’lek. She decided to go with some tact. “What would your parents have wanted?” 

Aayla chewed her lip for a moment before answering. “They would’ve wanted the best for us. They were pretty well-off. Are pretty well-off, I guess. We never really wanted for much, growing up, except adventure. Dad got tied up in a bad business deal, and Lol’wofe was learning the ropes of the business at the time. He ended up playing diplomat between Dad and the guys who came after him. I dunno the whole story, really. I was pretty little, you have to understand. He left when I was ten.” 

Fourteen years, Callista realized. That was longer than even she and Lyra had been apart. “I’m sorry.” 

“He came back sometimes,” Aayla continued her story, seemingly lost in it. “Always had the most beautiful presents. Mom always cried when he left, and Dad tried to beg him to stay at home. They didn’t know what he was doing, but they knew it was dangerous. Gods, it was a scandal. Everyone would always talk behind my back: ‘Oh, there goes Aayla. Her brother ran away with a whore, you know.’ ‘Oh, her brother joined the Rebels.’ Some of the stories were shameful and some were outright dangerous.” 

“Dangerous?” 

“It’s dangerous to be associated with the Rebel Alliance,” Aayla continued. “So one day I confronted him about it, asked if that’s really what he was doing. I must’ve been sixteen, seventeen. Barely an adult. He said no, he was a bounty hunter, and I was so caught up in the adventures he must’ve been living, you know? At home, I was in all these different courses, not even learning anything really, besides how to run a textile business like my dad, and how to make the textiles. Since Lol’wofe left, I was supposed to take it over. Then I turned twenty-three, and my parents started being so passive aggressive, asking when I was going to find a nice Twi’lek guy and settle down. I had a friend at school—Zemcroti—and my parents invited him over to see if we’d make a good match. Tired of waiting on me, I guess. I dunno. I just panicked. I left that night, Zemcroti still in our living room. Packed up my stuff and bought my way onto a ship with some cloners heading to Kamino. I like Kamino. Water planets, you know? We should go someday. Anyways, I worked on Kamino for a year until I saved up to buy my Razor. Made friends with a bounty hunter who was passing through, and he sold me Zyosh’s contract. I did some reading and found out Zyosh had had dealings with Jhox Vu, and I was looking for him on Eriadu. That’s when I ran into you.” Aayla shrugged. “Now you know my whole story.” 

Callista wasn’t quite sure what to say. She couldn’t fathom living with well-off parents, people who loved her and just wanted the best for her, and choosing to leave. She would’ve gotten married to a slug if it meant she could see her parents just one more time. Then there was the offhand sentence Aayla had thrown in: “Water planets, you know? We should go someday.” Implying there would still be a we someday. She ached for that to be true. She wanted there to be a we. She just wanted Lyra to be a part of their group, too. Maybe not Lol’wofe. She didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t want to be rude and remain silent. “I see.” 

Aayla shrugged. “I know it has to seem foreign to you,” she said, deliberately not making eye contact. “If I were in your shoes, I’d probably hate me for making the choice I made. But I just panicked. I didn’t want to get married, and I was drunk on the idea of adventure.” 

“So you haven’t spoken to your parents in a year?” Callista asked. 

“I’ve sent them letters so they know I'm safe. They don’t approve of my lifestyle—it's dangerous, and I’ve left them heirless—but they still want me to be safe. They try and send me money sometimes.” 

“Do you accept it?” She knew that wasn’t the right question to ask, and her suspicions were confirmed when Aayla stiffened. 

“Sometimes,” she answered. 

Silence. Callista hadn’t meant to offend Aayla, but she didn’t know what to do about it now. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Aayla finally made eye contact with Callista again. “Are you going to leave me today?” She demanded, her eyes brimming with hurt and, strangely, tears. 

Callista was surprised. “I-I don’t want to,” she stammered honestly. “I-we should go to Kamino.” 

“Kamino? Why Kamino?” Aayla asked. 

Callista didn’t know why Kamino, other than the fact that Aayla had just mentioned it. Callista had never been to Kamino, but she’d heard a bit about it. She felt that way, of course, about everywhere in the galaxy. “You said you knew a bounty hunter there. Maybe there’s somewhere we can get information on Lyra.” 

Aayla considered that for a moment. “I don’t think so,” she said. “It was just the one bounty hunter. Kamino is made up of cloners.” 

Callista wanted to scream. She was so confused—she'd been through so much today. She just wanted to find her sister and stay with Aayla, but the galaxy was making it so complicated. “I just-” 

“Darth Maul would know where your sister is,” Aayla cut her off. 

That was probably true. “I don’t know how we’d contact him again and keep our lives.” 

Aayla inclined her chin towards her brother, who was now flirting with the bartender, who looked very uninterested in what he had to say. “Lol’wofe would know. And he has a meeting at sunset.”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten 

Late afternoon 

City of Tarko-se, Cato Nemoidia 

It had taken some convincing to get Lol’wofe to leave the human bartender alone, and Aayla tipped her generously for having dealt with his drunkenness. Lol’wofe had had at least six drinks within the past hour, and he leaned heavily on both Aayla and Callista as he navigated them to his house, which turned out to be a moderately-sized apartment in a building shut behind a gate. He dropped the key six times trying to unlock the gate, and the women made eye contact with him over his back as he leaned down to get it—Callista judgmental, and Aayla exhausted. 

Callista, for her part, couldn’t understand Lol’wofe. He worked for a Sith lord, possibly learning the ways of the Dark Side of the Force from him, and yet, here he was, needing the help of his sister and someone he barely knew to get into his own place of residence. The inside of his flat was messy, littered with trash. There was a small living area, swimming in trash that surrounded the small couch, and through two doorways cutting off in different directions Callista could see his messy bedroom, bed unmade, curtains crusty, and his kitchen, which looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned a day in his life. She was repulsed by him, and wondered again how the people who raised someone as bright as Aayla could’ve raised such a mess. 

Lol’wofe staggered heavily and dropped onto his couch. “Need to terk a nerp,” he slurred, his face down on the cushions. “Can’t see m’ m’stchr like this.” 

“You can’t see anyone like this,” Callista observed, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice. 

“Shouldn’t have drunk so much,” Lol’wofe agreed with her, still slurring his words. “Not supposed to druk-drunk. Makes my head fuzzy and makes it harder to use Force.” 

“You are learning how to be a Sith,” Aayla said harshly. 

“Not your bushness,” Lol’wofe replied angrily. He tried to push himself into a seated position, but only managed to push himself up halfway, upon which he slid down the couch and ended up with his head below the cushions, his brain-tails dragging on the floor. 

“How could this not be my business?” Aayla asked, appalled. “Look at you! You’re a wreck! I idolized you! I left Mom and Dad to be like you! And look at you! A Sith’s apprentice, sick in the middle of the day from drinking too much.” 

“Hey,” Lol’wofe yanked himself back up to a lying-down position. “You gorls were hunged-over when I found you yeshterday. Don’t jutch me for drunking.” 

Aayla turned and gave Callista a look that was easy to decipher: What are we going to do with him? Callista didn’t have the answer to that. They—she—needed Lol’wofe to somehow get information from his master, a dangerous man, and Lol’wofe was in no state to do that. He wasn’t even in a state to interact with Maul, or anyone for that matter, and Callista could suddenly understand Aayla’s upset. If this were Lyra... 

No. Lyra was still a child in her mind, and she couldn’t picture her like this, but, remembering back to Aayla’s story about her childhood, so had Lol’wofe been when he left. He was only eleven. Sure, Twi’leks matured faster—they were considered adults at sixteen rather than eighteen—but that was still young. She couldn’t imagine what could have possessed a child that age to leave loving parents for the company of a Sith lord. Probably the same thing that would compel him to get this embarrassingly drunk at lunchtime when he had important meetings at sunset. Callista felt a stirring of pity within her heart. He was probably lonely. 

But that still wasn’t an excuse. And they needed him. Lyra needed him, which superseded any other concern Callista could’ve possibly had. She needed a solution. Now. 

She perched gingerly on the edge of the couch, careful to stay out of vomiting range. “Lol’wofe?” She said, cautiously. 

“Whaaaaa?” He sounded like a child being called for dinner. 

“You need to sober up. You can’t see Darth Maul like this,” she was going for tack, giving gentleness her best option. 

“I know,” Lol’wofe said, muffled as he smushed his face into the couch. “I do this all the time. The Forsh helpssssss.” 

“How does the Force help?” Aayla asked. She didn’t need to try to be gentle, she just was. 

Lol’wofe sat up. “I show you.” He closed his eyes. “I need complee-com-complete silsese. Okay? Promise?” 

“Okay, we promise,” Callista promised, and Aayla echoed her. 

So they sat in silence. Nothing appeared to be happening to Lol’wofe, and Callista was concerned he was going to fall asleep sitting up like this. She needed to formulate a backup plan. As she had that thought, she realized her main plan wasn’t even fully thought-out. All she knew was that the Crimson Dawn could track people down, and she wanted to harness it to find her sister. She had no idea of how she would convince Lol’wofe to be on their side and stick his neck out for them, or how it would even work, or if it would only make Maul angrier, putting her and Aayla’s--and possibly Lyra’s--lives at risk. It was an impossible task, to find something to do that wouldn’t end in death for everyone. 

She was going to appeal to his better nature, she knew that. But she didn’t know if Sith even had a better nature. Judging by the stories she’d heard of Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, “better nature” wasn’t something Sith highly prized. But Maul had shown them mercy. Maybe that meant there was hope for Lol’wofe as well. 

Probably not. 

At any rate, she needed a backup plan. As Lol’wofe sat silently, Aayla staring at him with an expression of bewilderment, Callista’s mind turned. She needed to figure something out, but what? What could she realistically do? She and Aayla could kidnap Zyosh and hold him for ransom, until Maul gave up the information. Well, Callista thought back to the dozens of guards, we could certainly try. 

All of this was futile, of course, if Maul couldn’t find Lyra, which wasn’t an unlikely outcome. The galaxy was a big, big place, and Lyra was a small child, sold by someone who didn’t matter to someone else who didn’t matter. If only Vu had kept records. Callista was seized by the sudden fear that no one would ever be able to find Lyra, and she’d spend her whole life alone, searching for someone long disappeared. She knew enough about life, and indentured servitude, to understand that as the most likely option. But she didn’t want to—couldn't—believe in it. She had to keep hope, she reminded herself. 

“All right,” Lol’wofe said calmly, interuppting her thoughts. His face was peaceful on the surface, but looked troubled underneath. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“Are you okay?” Aayla asked hesitantly. 

“Yes,” Lol’wofe responded, his eyes sliding open. “The Force is useful for many things, one of them being healing.” 

“Isn’t that a Light Side ability?” Aayla asked, which set Callista off thinking again. Lol’wofe was training to be a Sith, so how did he have any sense of normalcy to him? Weren’t they supposed to be the most evil? 

Lol’wofe hesitated before answering the question. “Darth Maul is teaching me the ways of the Dark Side of the Force,” he said levelly after a moment. “That does not make him my only teacher.” 

What? Callista, granted, didn’t know much about the Force. She wasn’t interested in joining a religious order whose main tenants included non-attachments. But she was pretty sure, from everything she’d learned secondhand about the Jedi Temple, that Light did not mix with Dark. There was Light, and then there was Dark. There was no Grey Area. Siths and Jedi did not mix—and that was before the Jedi genocide. Now there were no Jedi left, meaning the only Force users left were Sith. Only Dark. No Light. Where could Lol’wofe be learning about the Light Side, if not from history books? 

“There’s another Sith?” Aayla asked. 

“No.” Lol’wofe did not elaborate. 

Callista’ curiosity got the better of her. “Who else, then?” If there was a survivor of the Jedi Temple, surely they might remember her parents. Surely they might be able to sense through the Force where they were—and that’s when she had a sudden realization. Could Lol’wofe see through the Force to where Lyra was? She almost couldn’t contain herself from asking the question, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know if a Light Side teacher existed. 

Lol’wofe inhaled deeply before responding with a question of his own: “If I tell you, will you keep it a secret?” The two women readily agreed. “I am learning both sides of the Force. Darth Maul is my master half the time, and a Jedi is my master for the other half. Each of them thinks they are the only one, and the time I spend away from them is purely in practice. I am very skilled at keeping my emotions and thoughts hidden.” 

“Who survived the Temple?” Callista blurted. 

“A young man by the name of Cal Kestis,” Lol’wofe responded. “He is busy with a quest of his own.” 

“Does he-does he remember if anyone else survived the Temple?” Callista asked, enthralled. She didn’t care if Lol’wofe was lying to her. She just wanted her family back. 

“No,” Lol’wofe answered sharply. The sharpness of this single syllable cut Callista to her core. She didn’t realize that this was a possibility until mere moments ago, but now that the idea of seeing her parents again was ripped away from her, it hurt more than she could’ve imagined. 

“We were going to ask you for help,” Aayla said, sensing Callista’s distress and filling the silence. “We’re looking for Callista’s sister, Lyra. We think Maul might have access to that kind of information.” 

“He would,” Lol’wofe said after a moment of consideration. “But he wouldn’t share it.” 

“Would you?” Callista asked. “I mean, with the Force. Can you reach out and feel her?” 

Lol’wofe inclined his head, thinking. “Is she Force sensitive?” 

“I don’t know,” Callista answered honestly. She suspected her parents would’ve know, as they spent their days working around Force sensitive children. But they weren’t here to ask. 

“I suppose,” Lol’wofe said after a long, long moment, “I could try.” He re-closed his eyes. “Silence.” 

Callista could barely contain her excitement, but she had to remind herself—the Force wasn’t magic. It had limits. She didn’t know what those limits were, of course, but she’d seen miracles at the Temple. She tempered her excitement with consideration—what Lol’wofe was doing was very dangerous. He was mixing the Dark with the Light, the Jedi with the Sith. If he were to be caught, by either side, the consequences would almost certainly be fatal. She wondered what kind of person this Cal Kestis was, if he was a good man. If he’d known her parents. What kind of quest he was on. She hoped, for Aayla’s sake, that Lol’wofe wouldn’t get caught. 

Well, she supposed, she could hope for Lol’wofe’s sake as well. If he was able to find Lyra, she resolved to forgive him for bringing her and Aayla into harm’s way this morning. Finding Lyra, the impossible task, would outweigh any slight against her. 

Lol’wofe was silent for a long time, and Aayla was fidgety by the end of it, although she tried to contain herself. Callista couldn’t care less. Finally, after what felt like half an hour, Lol’wofe opened his eyes. “What I felt was faint,” he cautioned, “but I did feel something.” 

“Where is she?” Callista felt as if her whole body were vibrating. She was so close to finding her sister. 

“I believe she was sold,” Lol’wofe responded, measured, “to Korpath the Hutt.”


End file.
